The Stag Prince
by Mors Baratheon
Summary: Of a world where Cersei gives Robert a true born heir to his new Dynasty and kingdom for duty and a hope for affection , where Shireen Baratheon and Edric storm's fates are switched and nothing stays the same; fates are changed and the game pieces play out differently but atlas the game still stays the same.
1. Their marriage bed

**The Stag Prince**

* * *

Of a world where Cersei gives Robert a true born heir to his new Dynasty and kingdom for duty and a hope for affection , where Shireen Baratheon and Edric storm's fates are switched and nothing stays the same; fates are changed and the game pieces play out differently but atlas the game still stays the same..

...

I have pushed Robert's rebellion back by a year as well as all name days/birth years for all the major players past and future by a few years back or forward to better facilitate the Plot.

There are going to be changes to canon due to the true born heir's birth,so for all intents and purposes this should be treated as an AU story.

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**Chapter I**

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**Cersei Baratheon**

**282AL**

**Kings Landing: The Red Keep**

**Morning after the royal bedding**

* * *

_"Lyanna ..."_

_Noble, handsome ,courageous Robert Baratheon was meant to be hers, she was tired of playing second fiddle to other women when it came to the Iron throne; first to frail and noble Elia Martell and then to the hot-blooded and witless Lyanna stark who bulked at her duty to her house to the death and ruin of many._

_ She had waited through Aerys and Rhaegar's madness, the blood and ruin of many in the realm, Rhaegar's death and the fall and ruin of House Targaryen, Robert's eventual crowning and lastly ...Lyanna stark's death to finally be Queen._

_Robert was meant to be her king and she alone his Queen; a queen as her father had always wanted, she would have been a dutiful wife and Queen to him and in time ,she would have also given him; beautiful daughters who would have been the envy ____of many _ in the seven kingdoms and sons ;handsome and fearsome princes as fearsome as the Lions of Castelyrock but now...

_Now ...she wished him the foulest of ills, after all...no man deserved any better for slighting and scorning her during her own bedding, how dare he mutter that insipid girl's name as he spilled his seed in her belly._

_She would be rid of his seed by the morrow, she would not let it quicken. She would only have Jaime's children; how could she have forgotten it so easily for that oaf of a king; Jaime was the only one she loved and the only one who loved her in return unquestioningly._

* * *

"Cersei...Cersei?" Jaime's worried voice called out and lured her thoughts away from moon tea.

"What is it?" She looked up and asked with a tired, sombre barbed voice. Jaime looked a little taken back but his face soon became amused with a smirk on it, like he knew something she didn't. Why was he amused?

"You have hardly broken your fast sweet sister"; He said. "What is occupying your thoughts more than eating our decidedly humble fast?"

Their fast, she looked down at her plates of hot bread, pomegranates,grapes, tender slices of Auroch meat, two wedges of cheese and a plate of thick sweet soup made with pumpkins and a glass of summer wine and found she had hardly touched it. She looked around the oak wooden table set for four; Jaime, uncle Kevan and her Lord father had finished their tender Auroch slices, grapes, cheese wedges and hot bread and were starting on their soups with glasses of wine half drunk.

"Well...Cersei", inquired Jaime after judging he had given her ample time to gather her wits.

"I seem to have lost my... appetite", she replied too hesitantly but Jaime and uncle Kevan didn't look to have accepted her words.

"Is something on your mind Cersei," her uncle asked. He looked a man weighed down by too many worries. She did not want to add to those with her womanly and marriage worries not that she was inclined to; Robert was hers to deal with. Father had spared her a look and continued on his fast; Jaime had given her a look promising they talk in lesser company.

"Are you unhappy with your fast, Cersei; we could have a servant girl fetch you, something else mayhaps", Uncle Kevan continued asking when she didn't look up to answer him. He was always the considerate one between the two brothers. As children he would spare the time to indulge them in their fancies...Especially after mother died; even Tyrion wasn't...spared from his affections unlike father.

"Thank you but there is no need uncle"; she took two spoonfuls of her pumpkin soup to placate him but by the looks of his creased brow, he remained unconvinced; so she left him to his pondering after all he wouldn't manage to guess at her womanly thoughts and worries.

* * *

"Is...Is it Robert? "A hesitant quiet voice from her uncle's side of the table asked

That got her to up at him startled like a deer hearing the crunch of leaf and wooden leavings in the Kingswood. It was always thought her Lord uncle was the brother in the shadow; the small folk even went as far as saying that Lord Kevan Lannister never had a thought that his Lord Brother, Tywin Lannister didn't have first. That was...a lie if the looks on her Lord father and Jaime's faces, had anything to say about it. Jaime was most likely surprised by uncle Kevan's guess of her troubled thoughts, father was surprised, startled but all too soon his face and eyes became once more that expressionless, intent and unflinching look.

That look on her Lord Fathers face and his tense demeanor made her mind up for her on whether to tell them, at least some part of the truth, no man or woman dared to refuse Lord Tywin Lannister, anything if it concerned his family's name, honor and legacy even his own flesh and blood. Yes that and the fact that she was the sole focus of those unflinching, dead eyes. Quickly she marshaled her courage, composed her mind and...

"Does Robert find you unsatis ...?" In a voice so demanding and serious, her father began his inquiry but...

In a sure composed sombre voice, she began her response at the exact same moment as her father, interrupting and halting him; "Robert... is melancholy, he is a man lost and void of ways forward, father". She pressed on, "the war seems to have taken much from Robert and its toll too great on him leaving no room for anything else..." her father looked vexed for her interruption but kept quiet and began mulling and pondering over her words.

"Give him time Cersei, he will... " uncle Kevan began soothingly.

"Time..? What for", an amused Jaime asked while interrupting their Lord uncle and continued on, annoying their uncle if his an unamused eyes, set jaw and tight lips were anything to go by, "what has he got to be melancholy about sweet sister; he won his dammed rebellion, the iron throne and gotten you for a wife and queen", he said all of these in an amused sneering voice though it didn't seem to reach his eyes.

"War twists men, takes much from them and takes longer to heal and forget" reprimanded her uncle.

"Don't forget Rhaegar and the Mad king's folly and why King Robert began his damned rebellion, nephew. He might have carved in Rhaegar's breast plate and won his crown but in the end he lost the only thing...",the clang of knife and fork ,stopped his explanation to Jaime abruptly, his eyes a fraction wider, Mayhaps finally remembering his Lord Brother was in the same room ,breaking fast with them.

"That girl", her Lord father intoned, his voice unbelievably cold. That had her, Jaime and uncle Kevan looking at Lord Tywin in astonishment and weariness. His fast was long forgotten, his eyes were not set on any of them but she could see that they were dark pits of golden flaked emeralds, his jaw was set, his body unmoving and arms at rest on the oaken table; her Lord father continued uninterrupted," that girl is of no ..."

"Lyanna Stark", supplied her fool of a brother.

* * *

Bham...Her father's right hand smashed the table, startling them in their seats. Jaime really needed to learn how to measure and keep his words in father's presence.

"Yes Jaime, the stark girl" her father replied his voice a mix of anger and sarcasm and his eyes intent on his heir. That had Jaime fidgeting in his seat, wanting to be away from there. Uncle Kevan was also shooting Jaime an annoyed, scolding look.

"My apologies father", Jaime meekly apologized eyes set on his plates. That had father tensing his eyes and jaw in direct disapproval of Jaime's meek apology and failure to meet his eyes.

"Father..." she began, hoping to divert her father's anger from...

"Cersei ", her uncle interrupted; his voice and eyes scolding and imploring her to keep quiet and let her father say his piece.

Her Lord father continued glaring at Jaime for a few more seconds but when Jaime didn't look up, he finally glanced way disappointed and continued saying what he had wanted said unperturbed before Jaime's interruption, "the stark girl is of no concern to us, she is long dead with her bones on their way to the cold crypts in Winterfel, she is of no threat to you Cersei unless it is of your own making".

That had her scowling in potent anger, what did he know of Lyanna Starks's memory following Robert into their marriage, she almost sneered in anger, remembering Robert uttering the stark girl's name during their bedding and was almost tempted to divulge that titbit of information but she wasn't as foolish as to utter such a thing in her father's presence or anyone's.

Her father looked at her challengingly, daring her to utter a word. She wisely kept her thoughts to herself and any words she could have dare uttered in Jaime's presence to herself too.

"Cersei, you would do well to prevent her ghost impinging your marriage bed and preventing you from fulfilling your duty to Houses Lannister and Baratheon," continued father looking her right in the eye and unperturbed by her anger, back comfortably ridged in his chair, arms and hands resting on the arm rest.

* * *

"An heir would alleviate and smoothen some of the tension in the realm especially among Robert's allies; there are those who begrudge House Lannister entering the war...late, loath Jaime for committing regicide and protest the fates of Elia Martell and her children".

That startled Jaime out of his morose thoughts; no doubt thinking of the whispers that had been following him of late in Kings Landing..._"King slayer ,Oath breaker"_.

Her Lord father's words had her thinking of the closest of friends Eddard Stark and her Lord...Husband king Robert furiously arguing over the fate of Elia Martell and her children before Lord Stark went on to lift the siege at Storm's End three moons ago alone.

Some Paramount Lords and minor Lordlings wanted Jaime removed from the kingsguard and banished to the wall to take the black. Thankfully their fear of Lord Tywin Lannister stayed their words and hands. The Lord Hand Jon Arryn's reluctant cooperation with house Lannister, Dorne's continued hostility and the remaining royalist forces also weighed heavy on her mind.

"You must give Robert an heir to secure your own position and power as queen that can also be said for house Lannister as well, house Lannister is in a tenuous position with Robert's allies and the other Paramount houses that fought alongside him during his rebellion", her father continued sensing she would not interrupt him and that she was grudgingly listening.

* * *

"Jaime, a retinue of Lannister men and I will remain here as you sworn shields until the remaining Targaryens and Loyalists at Dragon stone are dealt with; you either quicken with child or give birth to one". Jaime looked startled and lost by father's words, so it fell to her to remind their Lord father of Jaime's vows to the kingsguard and remind herself as well that Jaime couldn't be taken from her.

"Father, Jaime is sworn to the kingsguard's service for life..." her father interrupted her desperate plea with a chilling look that quieted her and implored her to never remind him of Mad Aerys's spite and ploy to shame and rob him of his son and heir.

"I will be speaking to King Robert and Lord Arryn on releasing Jaime from his ...vows and oaths", her father mockingly spat those two last words at the end as he answered their unspoken question. Defeated, she signed and as an afterthought asked, "What of Uncle Kevan?" That earned her an amused, pitting look from her uncle.

"Your Lord Uncle, will be returning to Castelyrock in my stead while I remain at court", with those closing words her Lord father stood up his chair scratching the flagstones in the queens ballroom, he was soon followed by her uncle at his kneels towards the black iron banded oak door.

Near the door, her father looked back and called for Jaime to follow; leaving her behind with thoughts of duty, on how much she had gained, could possibly lose and her fast all but forgotten.

There was some truth to what her lord father and uncle had said and mayhaps a child and time would soften Robert's heart enough to help her make him forget and rid themselves of Lyanna Stark's ghost and mayhaps win his heart for herself.

She would not forgive or forget Robert's slight but she would do her duty in their marriage bed.


	2. The Usurper's heir

Portraying Robert is tricky but alas...

* * *

**Chapter II**

* * *

**Robert Baratheon**

**283AL**

**The Red Keep: the royal Apartments**

* * *

He was missing the hunt for this dammed waiting.

The childbed was a messy business; he remembered all too well how long little Mya's childbed took. The dammed screaming, the blood and finally the babes cry, loud and clear; its little lungs yelping its birth into the world.

That same dammed screaming was coming from behind the oaken door that separated the solar from the queen's bed chambers in the Royal apartments.

He should not be anywhere near it, here in cerise's solar alone in a dark corner; fretting about, twiddling his thumbs with no stomach for Ale or wine; waiting for some babe that seemed to love his mothers belly a little too much.

The others take Jon and his kinging business, even now he remembered his Lord hand scolding him in that wise croaky voice of his; the one he used on him and Ned during their fostering years in the Eyrie, when he found out him and Ned had done wrong, well to be fair to Ned most of the time, it was him who got them into trouble; "Robert, you can hardly go hunting while your queen is in her childbed for however long birthing your child and heir takes", it wouldn't be proper with Lord Tywin in the Redkeep.

So he had stayed against himself; he was king after all, no matter how much he wished it wasn't so and that it was his Lyanna birth to their child right now. So he had forgotten the hunt...Watched as a reluctant Jaime Lannister, his obtuse of a younger brother Stannis and the other men of the court went on without him. He had treated with Jon and Lord Tywin for a few hours, found a few ways to amuse him in kings landing after that... and wasted a few more event-less hours in the Redkeep before giving up and making his way to Cersei.

He had gotten a nod of approval from Jon as he finally made his way to Cersei's rooms, Ser Barristan standing guard over him, he cursed the day he sat on the Iron throne and Tywin's presence in the Redkeep.

The old Lion had stayed in the Redkeep in between his visits to Castelyrock near a year, prowling its halls and cells, treating with his Lord Hand on matters of the realm and brokering for peace between paramount houses; former Rebels and Loyalists alike now that...the last two Dragons had fled Dragon stone three moons ago. They had slipped through Stannis's fingers and stolen away in the dead of night to Bravos and the free cities of Essos...for now.

* * *

That had been five hours ago, he was tempted to call Ser Barristan into the solar and talk of tourneys and wars long past but thought better of it, it wouldn't be able to distract from all this dammed fretting.

As he paced the flagged floor of Cerise's richly decorated solar, there was final screaming then after a minute or so, cries from a babe, the waiting was over, he was finally a father.

The Door separating Cersei' s solar from her bed chambers was opened ;one of her Lannister hand maidens stepped out ,tired ,weary but smiling, she was quiet the wench but..."your grace!", exclaimed the maid quite surprised. Come to think of it, everyone thought him gone out to the Kingswood with the other men of the court on a hunt.

She quickly remembered herself and said, "The Queen has given birth to a hearty healthy boy...he is being washed and cleansed as we speak your grace", and she told him of what had happened in an excited squeaky voice. A boy, he had a son, an heir...Jon and Lord Tywin would be pleased.

He gave her a curt nod, made his way towards the open door, walked passed her and then through the door she just had come from...a moment or two later, she was right behind him. The chamber smelled of blood, sweat and a smutty smell he couldn't quiet put his finger on. Two handmaidens and a servant girl were cleaning and helping a sweaty, hair mated Cersei to get comfortable in her pillows and feather bed.

Despite himself he acknowledged her beauty; even the childbed couldn't rob her of it. Grand Maester Pycelle was reverently handing a swaddled bundle ...the babe, his son in dark Baratheon gold wools and linens to Cersei to most likely settle the fuzzy bundle down, the grand Maester's back was to him. So it fell to the handmaiden standing beside a basin of what looked like dirty warm water to notice him and announce his presence to the others in the chamber.

"Your grace"!

Ha-ha-ha ...That had them, well I suppose staying back, missing the hunt and listening to Jon for once was worth it to see that look on Pycelle's grizzled old face. The handmaidens and servant girl were going out of their way to bow ...parroting your grace, your majesty here and there but Cersei...Cersei, his queen the others take her; hardly looked up from lulling the child.

'Your grace, we expected you back from the hunt on the morrow with the rest of the Lords and retinue", no surprise there; Pycelle was back to his usual courteous ass licking self in no time at all. You had to give the man his due..., he had to have had a lot of practicing, serving two of Aerys's ilk including the Mad king himself.

"Never mind that, let's have a look at the boy". That had Cersei looking up and giving him a look he couldn't quiet put a name to but she was soon cuddling up the child in its small blankets readying to hand it over to him.

"Of course ..., of course your grace. The boy is a credit to both his royal parents and their houses", Pycelle replied. He watched as Pycelle ushered the handmaidens and servant girl out the Queens's chambers.

He walked over to her side of the bed, bent over and gently scooped the child from her arms, cradled the child in his arms and rocked him back and forth when he got a bit fuzzy. He was surprised of how small, light and quiet the babe was.

"He is a quiet one isn't he?" , he was trying to make conversation with Cersei as he sat himself besides her, cradling the babe closer to him as he wanted a better look at his son; he had little turfs of coal black hair on his head, pink faced, closed eyes, little fists by his little chin, sleeping. All in all, he couldn't help but be moved at the sight, he smiled.

"Yes ", Cersei replied, nodding her head and kept watching him and the babe.

Gods be dammed...Cersei and her little words were getting to him...Couldn't the woman show some dammed womanly pride and excitement over her new born but he would have to endure her and be done with this fatherly and kingly business. Of course he knew why she was being frigid and cold...Cold enough to make dear old Ned and his old gods smile...gods forbid, the very thought of a smiling carved face on a weirwood heart tree made him shudder.

* * *

The simple truth was, he didn't have it within himself to Love Cersei not after sweet Lyanna .They both would have to endure this marriage, one step at a time and one year at a time. The next order of fatherly business was...

"Have you chosen a name yet Cersei?"Giving her the honour of naming their son and heir would be his show of appreciation.

She looked at him; eyes surprised, nodded in acceptance of his gesture but all too soon her face once more became that quiet sombre facade it was before but she mulled over his question too, at least she was listening.

For boy names, I had thought to name him Steffon, Tommen or Loren.

"Mmmm, all fine names, all but for Steffon". He would not name any of his sons after his father. It would be too painful. "What of Borros or Lyonel?"

She gave him a contemplative look, nodded, mayhaps guessing at his reasons for refusing to name their son after his own father and begun pondering his two suggestions. Grand Maester Pycelle gave him a pitying look.

Cersei shook her head saying no after thinking over the two names.

"Loren...Loren Baratheon; "Cersei finally replied; running the name through her mouth and tasting its sound. Sure of her choice, she nodded and faced him and said...," name him Loren".

"A good and strong name, befitting a prince", he nodded and smiled in acknowledgement of her choice of name...it would even please the old Lion he thought.

Maester Pycelle curled his lips thoughtfully...

"Grandmaester, if you..." he began but..

"Your Grace, if I may?"

That dammed old Maester interrupted him," what is it Pycelle, spit it out?" He replied in a loud gruff tone of voice. Just as he was about to order the old maester to convey the news of the prince's birth to Lords Arryn, Tywin and to the small folks, Lords and Ladies alike in Kings Landing via the bells of the great Sept of Baelor.

Reproached, Grand Maester Pycelle bowed his head in apology and voiced his thoughts, "My King and Queen while Loren is a good and fine name for the Prince for it represents both his Baratheon and Lannister blood, it may not be the best name to give the crown prince.

"Why not Pycelle?" Cersei inquired indignantly.

"Well what of it?" He too inquired, growing impatient of the whole thing.

"While Loren is a noble and strong name, the Prince; your heir would share a name with the Last king of the rock, a king who bent the knee to Aegon the conqueror after the field of fire; a well known and infamous defeat for both the former rock and reach kingdoms, "explained Pycelle.

"I see ", he replied his jaw set, eyes sharp, cold and intense. Yes he did see; it wouldn't do for him the Demon of the Trident to name his son and heir after a king who bent the knee to the dragon spawn dynasty he just vanquished.

Cersei seemed to understand if that disappointed downcast look she had on her face was anything to go by. But then she looked up a contemplative deviate look on her face," what of Tommen?"

"Not commanding enough, my Queen". Pycelle apologetically replied.

* * *

Heh...that had Cersei furious, he could see it in her eyes. Almost sneering, she asked," what would you suggest then Grandmaster Pycelle?"

"My queen, it wouldn't be proper", the maester replied a little surprised and head bowed, body hunched.

Cersei ground her teeth.

Robert stood up baby swaddled in his arms and faced the Maester who stood at the foot of Cerise's bed whose hands and arms were hidden in his voluminous sleeves. He gave Grandmaester Pycelle his most unflinching look and asked..."but you do have a name in mind don't you Pycelle, out with it?

Pycelle seeing no way out adopted a contemplative look, head bowed and looked away from them, a hand caressing his long white beard. Maester's with their dramatics, he thought.

After waiting just long enough to test their Patience, the grandmaster replied" What of the name Orys your grace? A strong commanding name carried by your forefather the first Lord and founder of House Baratheon mayhaps a more fitting name for the first royal born Baratheon son.

Orys Baratheon, crown prince and heir of the Iron throne."Yes the name has merit and hidden meaning enough..."

"What do you think Cersei? I know the honour of naming him was meant to be yours" He turned around and asked his wife eager but also conflicted on whether to let Old Pycelle have the honour of naming their first born son and heir when he had given the honour to Cersei as a token of appreciation. She contemplated the name for a minute...

"Orys...Prince Orys Baratheon, yes it's a fine strong name"; she tasted the name on her tongue then replied. "It's certainly does have more subtle meaning than the other names", after a pause she sighed and gave her weak assertion for the name, "very well, lets name him Orys"

He nodded and smiled, happy at her agreement on their son's name; he would let her name their next children, looking down at his sleeping son nestled in his arms; he walked over to Cerise's bed side handed over Orys to her, whom she hesitantly once more cradled back into her arms.

"Beg your pardons Your Graces?"Grandmaester Pycelle hesitantly asked.

Cersei looked up from Orys and inquisitively inquired, "Yes Grandmaester Pycelle?"

What is it now Pycelle? He too inquired a bit coarsely.

"I beg your leave, So I may inform Lord Arryn and Lord Tywin of prince Orys' s birth and have the bells rang to announce his royal birth to the capitol as well as fetch the wet nurse" .Replied the maester head bowed.

Cersei nodded and returned her attention to calming Orys, who had become fuzzy and agitated.

He faced the Grandmaester, curtly nodded his head in response to Pycelle's request, "You might as well and thank you for your help Pycelle", the maester nodded and he watched him leave through the chamber doors he had walked in through not so long ago. That left him and Cersei alone in her bed chambers shrouded in silence waiting the grand Maester's return.

Without saying a word, he walked towards Cersei's windows and looked out over the peaceful dusk sky of Kings landing but within minutes whatever peace he felt was gone and stolen by the gong of bells being rung all over the capitol announcing to its small folk and nobles alike the birth of their prince and heir... the Usurper's heir .

It almost made him laugh and cry thinking about it but Cersei's presence behind him stopped him, even a year on, he scarcely believed it; him a king, he had never wanted the crown, it was the girl he wanted... all he had ever wanted was the girl, his sweet Lyanna.


	3. The Oaf

**There have been some slight changes to this chapter after some new information was discovered.**

See Authors note at the bottom

* * *

**Chapter III**

* * *

**Jon Arryn**

**290AL**

**Kings Landing: Tower of the Hand**

* * *

Something had to be done.

Robert and Cersei were proving ill managed to be parents, let alone parents to children who were someday expected, gods willing to rule and guard the peace of the realm. The realm would crumble if he left things unchecked; there was so much the Grandmaester, master at arms and Septas could do to raise and groom the children without the good help of their royal parents.

Sat in his solar in the tower of the hand hidden from the sweltering afternoon heat of the capitol and sweating in his silks and linens, he began to ponder; what was to be done of the royal children; Orys, Joffrey, Myrcella and little Tommen. Mayhaps not Myrcella and the babe Tommen; Myrcella was only two name days while little Tommen was only a few moons old after all, it was their eldest brothers, who were the immediate problem. Orys the crown prince who was seven name days old and his younger brother Prince Joffrey who was one name day and two moons younger.

The oldest of Robert's sons, Orys was studious by nature, cunning, intuitive, courteous if need be and had a curiosity that got him in trouble far too often, he remembered two moons turns ago when the boy had cajoled his uncle Jamie Lannister to take him to the ruined dragon pits on Rhaenys hill .When he had returned, he was choke full of questions that left a titter of nervous laughter and furore in the Redkeep, "Why are the dragon pit doors still closed, why did kings landing have a foul smell to it, why was there nothing named after his father, why did some of the small fork called his father the whore monger king and his uncle Jaime King slayer? Why this, why that, though some of his questions did give him things to ponder.

But sadly it was those very same traits and strengths that would ruin the boy given time; it all came back to Robert and Cersei's follies as parents.

Cersei loved her eldest son or whatever passed as love in her eyes but was indifferent to his grooming, though she did make sure the Septas did their jobs raising him well while Robert on the other hand gave the boy the barest silver of recognition when he wasn't drinking, feasting or whoring, Robert was disappointed in the boys studious nature and their lack of common interest, Orys was showing more interest in the bow than swordplay at the moment to Robert's further disappointment and thought it craven of any warrior or warrior to be, to hide behind a bow.

Joffrey on the other hand was his mother's favorite, willful, sly, ill tempered and forever indulged, a jewel in his mother's eyes and a boy who could do no wrong in her eyes. A seed of arrogance had began to sprout in the boy as of late, tired of hiding behind the protections of his mother's skirts, Joffrey was becoming bolder each day and that sprout of arrogance was growing that much stronger and firmer which was made worse each day by his ill managed temper that lay unchecked by his mother's love and father temperament and behavior could not go unchecked given Joffrey would be inheriting Dragon stone and all its Lands and Titles as Prince of Dragon stone.

Robert and Cersei's respective favoring of one child over the other at least in the eyes of their sons was causing problems and creating a rift between the brothers, Orys was jealous of the obvious love his mother bestowed upon his younger brother Joffrey.

Joffrey on the other hand was resentful of the acknowledgement he thought Orys had from their father even if it was the barest silver of recognition Robert showed Orys as his first born son, a passing interest if anything.

If the boys weren't trying to outwit or out do each other and their parents weren't involved the brother's got on swimmingly fine most of the time. Most of the time, the two brothers settled their little bouts and scuffles through taunts, japes and some well meaning chases around the keep but on some rear occasion they came to blows and tears.

On those rear occasions their mother got involved. Fueling resentment and causing a rift between the brothers. These occasions were becoming far too common in the Redkeep for peaceful mind and comfort.

There were some harsh japes spoken by the brothers to each other today, which had led to blows yet again, the second time in as many days. Their sworn shields had to pry the boys from each other.

Robert had laughed it off thinking it was boys their age being boys while Cersei had once again reprimanded her eldest son for stooping himself to his younger brother's level. As far as she was concerned the blame laid squarely upon Orys's feet for rising to Joffrey's taunts and japes.

He might not have agreed with Cersei's means but her words rung true, Orys as the oldest should have risen above his brother's taunts and should be held a league apart from his younger brother Joffrey as crown prince.

Joffrey would hopefully learn far more from such a show of restraint from Orys than from their frequent scuffles and his need of satisfaction from seeing his older brother rise to his taunts and japes.

So he had invited the young prince to treat with him hoping to impact the need for restraint in regards to his brother but the conversation had gone astray, intriguing and disturbing him deeply. Even now he still remembered the part of the conversation with the young prince, the questions and the manner in which they were asked that both intrigued ,disturbed him and gave things to ponder.

* * *

_"Lord Arryn, why does mother always take Joffrey's word over mine?" the crown prince looked a pitiful sight seated across from him, head bowed, body hunched, and hands at the knee balled into little fists .So unlike his father at that age...he looked Like Robert reborn again in many ways apart from the lithe body and those hauntingly dark green eyes that were moist at the moment._

_"Orys..., he called out in a soft voice, which had the lad looking up at him. The boy was indeed close to tears, the boy would have to learn sooner rather than later that his tears did him more harm especially in this snake pit he called a home._

_"Orys it's not that she takes Joffrey's word over yours...," he found himself replying but was interrupted._

_"But she takes his side all the time", Oh the boy had fight in him...he looked indignant, slighted even, over the doubt Jon had in his word. Those dark green eyes had gone cold in resentment for a few seconds at that._

_Dam Robert, he was getting too old and tired for this, grooming other men 's children when in truth it was long past the time for him to be doing so._

_"Orys, your Lady mother does not take Joffrey's words over yours, out of some perceived favoritism but out a sense of duty and responsibility for you". At least that what the queen said when those in the court were daring enough to ask_

_"What do you mean by her duty and responsibility for me?" Orys asked in a surprised and intrigued voice._

_"Yes, a duty and responsibility for the man you will become one day, a king after your father. Crown Prince's do not simply become kings on the day; crowns are placed upon their heads but are forged by the life leading to that day. You must learn not to fall prey to Joffrey's taunts but rise above them Orys by showing restraint". He prayed to the gods that the boy understood_

_"But Lord Arryn, shouldn't mother treat Joffrey the exact same way she treats me, after all Joffrey is going to be become Prince and Lord of Dragon stone someday or ...if something were to happen to me...",the young prince paused mayhaps frightened of the thought but none the less finished his point ," Joffrey would take fathers place"_

_That caught him by surprise, not only had the boy understood him but he had also broadened those very thoughts further than he should at his age. He sat back on his seat ,back straight, arms and hands on the armrest, eyes measuring; he might be so unlike his father in temperament but mayhaps he was all the better..._

_"Lord Arryn...?"_

_He had drifted off in thought yet again; the boy was already fidgeting in his seat, clearly uncomfortable at his continued silence._

_"Please forgive this old man, his wondering thoughts Orys...I get lost in them sometimes, he laughed trying to defuse the awkward silence in the chamber._

_"You are not that Old yet Lord Arryn", the boy replied while laughing. That Laughter suited him much more than his usual stoic continence._

_"Not that old, you say Orys..." he asked in a rueful and sarcastic voice._

_"Yes, there just might be some hope left for you yet my Lord ", Orys replied in kind. That cheeky little..._

_"You just might be right my boy", He pondered and laughed along at the boys jape but it was time to go back to the matter of why they were here._

_"Orys..." he called out and when e he was certain he had the boys ear once more, which showed in the way his body stiffened, his eyes widen a fraction, the prince composing himself before glancing his way to him that he had his undivided attention._

_So continued their conversation by answering the question the young prince asked before his thoughts had wondered off, "Orys..._

_There was a knock on his door; it seemed he had once again drifted off too long in his thoughts again._

* * *

"Come in", he called out.

"What is so dammed important that you had that Squire of yours interrupt my Luncheon", entered a vexed Robert. By Luncheon Robert probably meant feasting far more than any man ought to do, even now he could see the beginnings of a portly belly protruding through the once heavily muscled king's silks and Linens. It was no surprise after all; food was one of Robert's greatest passions, right after drinking and whoring in the absence of war.

"My apologies Robert but I have two very important matters, I would like very much to discuss with you with due haste; do have a seat", he politely informed the irritated king.

He waited until Robert sat in the very seat his eldest son had sat yesterday. The difference being Robert had an air of boredom, irritation and a silver of anxiety. He probably thought, they mayhaps would be discussing his excesses once more, which had some truth to it but it was the matter of Robert's eldest sons that he wanted to settle most.

"Well what are these matters then Jon?" asked the king giving him his full undivided attention.

Composing himself, he began "The first matter concerns the vacant Maester of the coin position in the small council, the king's body tensed in irritation at that, probably expecting their age old arguments to be rehashed concerning his excesses; undeterred he continued "the second matter concerns your eldest sons ", now that had Robert both curious and confused going by the manner of his eyes and creased brow.

"My sons?" inquired the king, a king in nothing else but name; he thought bitterly. He would have to be careful dealing with Robert when it concerned his sons, beasts in men stirred when they thought their sons vulnerable and folly afoot even in a father like Robert. He had marshaled the Arryn, Baratheon, Stark and Tully banners and began a rebellion to over throw Aerys and his Targaryen ilk for that very same reason; Robert and Eddard were his sons in every way but blood.

"Yes but let's get the matter of master of coin out of the way first before we discuss that matter, Robert". He knew that would take a long conversation or time to settle.

"Very well... Jon, if you insist". The king heisted and replied in an apprehensive voice then continued congenially "Do you mayhaps have someone in mind for master of coin, Jon?"

"Yes, I do in fact have one", he replied without hesitation then named the man without pause," Petyr Baelish".

"Petyr Baelish?" Robert exclaimed in surprise then inquired," The man you had running the coin at Gull town", with a vague recollection of the name, Robert asked; looking for a sign, he had the right of it.

Happy that Robert recalled the man he nodded and replied," yes the very same man; he has proven himself very capable. The coffers at Gull town rose threes time in profit and he has risen steadfastly through the ranks of the coin from the moment I brought him to Kings Landing, a year and six moons ago".

Seeing that the king looked unconvinced, he added; "Baelish has a knack of magiking a third gold dragon when given two. He puts the gold to work rather than let rest in the coffers", he explained.

Still unconvinced Robert questioned, "Yes that's very well and good but shouldn't we appoint a well known high born Lord Mayhaps a Lannister, "you know what they say about those yellow haired shits?" asked Robert in jest.

Yes, he thought; they always paid their debts and shit gold but Robert most likely meant Lord Tywin himself not just any other Westerlander, likely Cersei's work, the girl had Robert's ear and thought herself Tywin Lannister with teats reborn ... "or mayhaps one of Mace Tyrell's banner men or the Fat flower himself ", Robert continued none the wiser of his hand's thoughts.

Happy that Robert had said his piece, he replied; "Robert lowborns have sat the small council before, it's nothing new besides there are Lords who are weary about Tywin's influence at court and the amount of Lannisters in Kings landing".

"Let me finish Robert", he stopped Robert when the King looked to argue then continued when he grudging kept quiet, "Lord Tywin would be slighted by anything less than the Hand of the king and any other Lannister or banner man would be acting in his favor add that to you having accepted to squire two Lannister boys in future...", he left it unsaid knowing Robert would understand.

"What of the Reach oaf and his banner men?" Robert Inquired knowing full well why they couldn't appoint any Reach men to the small council...Stannis. He gave Robert an amused reproaching shake of the head.

"Stannis the others have him...he still hasn't forgotten the siege and the Tyrells almost starving him to death at storm's end". Robert voiced their thoughts.

After a fit of amused Laughter, Robert finally said his piece on the matter;"Baelish will have to do for now until you find someone better ,for the moment I will support you and convince the dammed small council to appoint him, if need be".

* * *

"Now onto our second matter of business, your sons, Orys and Joffrey", he said in a serious voice, knowing full well how important it was and also to let Robert know they were moving on and compel his undivided attention.

"What of my sons Jon, what have they done now?" Robert asked with a serious, intrigued and disappointed mix in his voice.

"It's not so much, what they have done but what we can do for them", he replied and further confusing and making Robert anxious by the looks of things.

"What we can do for them?" Robert asked intrigued.

He looked Robert in the eye and replied, "yes but before we get into the thick of it Robert, I have questions I want answers to?"

"Damn it Jon, say your piece, what do you want to do with my sons? And none of your questioning business" he continued irritated

"Robert, I know very well how important this is to you but I give you my word that your answers are just as important as the matter ,they will help us settle this matter concerning your sons quickly "He replied sternly to his king and former ward.

"What are this dammed questions of yours then", inquired Robert subdued but not any less deviant.

Sighing in defeat, he asked his questions, "What do you want for your sons Robert?, "he paused and then he continued with his questions when he saw that he had Startled Robert into silence "how do you want your son's to rule after you, What kind of realm do you want them to inherit after you?The gods willing your sons become men and Orys becomes King and Joffrey the Prince of Dragon stone".

He could see for the first time in his life as Robert's second father, he had startled the king cold to his feet, Robert had a look worth a few leagues, he had never seen it on his face before; cold, haunted and regretful.

"Robert?"He asked when there had been far too much silence in the solar, though it didn't seem to rouse the king from his thoughts.

"Robert?" So he asked him hoping to let his King know that he had given him time enough to gather his wits about him.

"gods be good Jon, I heard you the first time "the king cursed, then sighed and continued in the same breath" to be honest with you Jon, I haven't thought much on it but I will tell you this much; am thankful gods willing it will be Orys who follows me, Joffrey...,"the king left his thoughts unfinished.

"I won't be getting any answers out of you, will I Robert "he shook his head and asked his former ward in frustration.

"I have never been much of a man who sat down to ponder things through until the stranger almost crept up and took me; you have known me more than half my life Jon, I have always gone where the wind took me, done whatever I loved but also done my duty when it was called for .So say your piece Jon and if it strikes true, I will do my duty by my sons, I swear by the gods ", finished the king.

"Alright then Robert, I will get on with it, no more questions", he sighed in defeat, he could appreciate the honesty Robert was showing him and so he would reply in kind. Robert looked surprised with how easily he relented on his questions.

* * *

"Have you ever had any thoughts on fostering both Orys and Joffrey?"

"What...fostering them, have you gone mad Jon; fostering a second prince very well but the crown prince and heir, it's not done, it never done " replied a startled Robert

"Yes, I know its uncommon Robert but it can be done", he said thoughtfully.

"Why in seven hells, do we need to foster my sons, Jon?" Robert asked in clear irritation and wounded Pride. It looked like Robert felt slighted , which was quite normal because no man ever wanted it to be said or insinuated that he wasn't a good father.

"Why the seven hells would I consider such a thing in the first place?"Robert repeated himself when he didn't answer him the first time. Robert's obvious thoughtlessness was astounding.

"Jon..."Robert began again with an edge to his voice. That would not do, he would not be talked down on.

"Damn it Jon, are you even listening...

BHAM...he slammed both his hands on the oaken table, stinging the palms of his hands but silencing Robert all the same.

"Think Robert... damn you think, the Greyjoys and their dammed rebellion may have united the realm behind you but do you think your sons and their sons can hold the realm and the peace with the way you and Cersei are grooming them to be men or lack of , long after you, me, their uncles, grandfather and mother are all long dead. When they can't even keep the peace between themselves as brothers; what is it with the Baratheon brothers and the little love between them?"He stood and paced the back of his chair to walk off his anger and agitation.

The quiet in the chamber was thick enough to cut with a scythe, he could understand why Robert's eyes followed him in disbelieve and wonderment; it had been a few years since he had raised his voice to Robert in anger and vexation. After a few minutes had gone and he was satisfied, he under his anger at hand, he sat himself down once more.

"What brought this on, Jon", Robert asked in a voice wary of his hands anger.

He laughed, startling Robert.

"Believe it or not Robert, it was Orys who gave me the thought, though unknowingly. I had called him up to the tower yesterday to have a word with him about his many bouts and scuffles with Joffrey... but it was me who left that conversation with more things to ponder. I hope that, you have as much sense in you as your son does ". He japed at the end making Robert smile.

"Suppose, we were to do this, where would we foster them, Castelyrock with Tywin, the storm lands or up north with Ned? Inquired Robert

"Castelyrock is a given if we want to pry Joffrey out from behind Cersei's Skirts and foster him, the storm lands don't serve our purpose of currying and making allies for your sons when they are your sworn banner men to begin with. The north is out of the question, am afraid, Eddard has four true born children, the Greyjoy boy as a ward and his base born son to look after; we will have to look to specific southron Lands; Castelyrock, the reach and... Dorne will have to do for our needs "he replied.

"Dorne have you mad you mad Jon, Tywin would have my head if Cersei and the King slayer didn't kill me first in my sleep?"Robert asked him in astonishment, mayhaps thinking his wits had finally began leaving him in old age.

"Not for your Sons Robert but Stannis's boy, Edric when he is old enough to squire. We have to appease the Dornish least they nurse their grudges and turn it against your sons in future. The murder of family is not an easy thing to forget Robert"

Sufficiently wary Robert asked "Do you really think Stannis would give up his only son and heir for the Dornish to foster or squire?"

"Better the Dornish than the Reach Lords, Stannis will do his duty by his house; it's you who has to remember yours by him. You are yet to explain yourself to Stannis over threatening to give him Dragon permanently in jest due to the Targaryens escape and you have left him stewing in slight all these years "he replied sure in Stannis but disappointed in his former ward.

"You mentioned Castelyrock, the reach and Dorne; What of Riverrun and the Eyrie?"Robert inquired sidestepping anything to do with Stannis and his anger over Daenerys and Viserys Targaryen escaping to the free cities in the dead of night.

"You already have the favor of the Riverlands and the Vale as allies through me and Eddard and our marriages to Hoster's daughters, it's the reach and Dornish we must curry favor with at the moment and the foreseeable future "he replied and he too recognizing and not wishing to get into the business that was Robert and Stannis Baratheon for the moment.

Robert Looked irritated, uneasy but also strangely at peace with what was to happen to his two sons. He knew Robert hated the intrigues of court but this had to be done.

"So Joffrey goes to Castelyrock, gods willing Cersei comes to her wits, Edric to the Martells when he is ready and my eldest son and heir to...That oaf in Highgarden, is that it Jon?" Robert asked testily.

He could see why Robert would think that, they would foster Orys in the Reach but not at Highgarden.

"No, Orys goes to the only place where it would do him,the most good "he replied intriguingly; surprising Robert.

Wary but intrigued Robert asked, "And where is that?"

He smirked and replied, "To the Hightowers in Old town"

* * *

**Authors Note:**

I just realized Somethings ,so there going to be some changes to my plot.

Its said that Stannis and Renly are named Lords of Dragon-stone and Storms End respectively some time in 285AL in canon.

Making it 284 in my story.

Therefore,it wouldn't make any sense for Robert to give both titles away when he already has a son and heir and probably another child/son on the way in this story despite his grudge against Stannis for letting Daenerys and Viserys escape.

**So here are the Changes:**

**Storms End** goes to Stannis

**Summer Hall** is rebuilt after(5-10years from 283AL in this story) and bestowed to Renly- the Crowns treasury vaults were over flowing when Aerys died,though they will be a debt in future,it wont be as excessive-this all plays apart in the plot of story

**Dragon stone**-first goes to Orys as Prince of Dragon Stone and then finally to Joffrey.

**Character Ages:**

**Orys-**7

**Joffrey-**6

**Myrcella-**2

**Tommen -**moons old


	4. The White Cloak

**Three days later...**

* * *

**Chapter IV**

* * *

**Jaime Lannister**

**290AL**

**Kings Landing**

* * *

There were days, not too many in his life that he regretted ever taking his vows and oaths and donning the white cloak of the kingsguard and robbing himself of his birthright and forfeiting his claim to the Lands and titles of the Westerlands as the heir to Castelyrock and eternally damming himself to the damnable machinations and whims of gods and men.

Machinations like those of his former King; Mad Aerys, his sweet sister Cersei and the current hand of the King, Jon Arryn.

In those rarest of days, he would wish he could have had strength enough in his youth to have married Lysa Tully the lesser of Lord Hoster Tully's daughters and to have been the son his Lord father had always wanted, a son who would have wielded and maintained the strength, pride and honor of House Lannister;the House and name that his Lord father,Lord Tywin had clawed back from the brink of ruin and collapse due to the follies of his grandfather Tytos Lannister.

There was a time after Robert and Cersei's wedding when he had thought his father would succeed in convincing his good son and newly crowned king to void his oaths and vows to the kingsguard, so that he might return to Castelyrock, marry one of his many cousins or a daughter of a lesser Lord and live out the rest of his life at the rock with the indelible stain of Aerys blood forever on his hands, less gallant, less bright than his father had envisioned but Lord of Castelyrock all the same.

But it had never came to be, Jon Arryn had counseled his King and former ward against such an endeavor, reminding the newly crowned king that he might have won the throne but it didn't mean he had the good will of the entire realm behind him or the political capital to brazenly break one of the most important, oldest and noblest of vows in the realm.

So he had remained, though he had found it odd and bitterly amusing that he; who had murdered his previous king,a king he had sworn to protect and defend, would have his treason so easily ignored and still be allowed to remain in the Kingsguard with his vows and oaths still intact to protect the new king.

How absurd it was that he was called oath breaker...while great men of the realm could easily chose and discard the vows and oaths; they wanted to keep while condemning him for doing the same. He found it all bitterly amusing...along with what still stopped him, running Robert Baratheon through with a sword for how easily the king found it in him to slight his beautiful wife and his sister with cousins, ale wenches, servant girls and the daughters of lesser Lords and siring bastards for all to hear and see.

Trapped in such circumstances, he keenly understood why in those rarest of days; when he was feeling melancholy and reflective, he would feel the odd cold bite of regret for what had become of him.

* * *

Today was becoming such a day...

The day had started out so well enough and mind numbingly similar for him to any other day in Kings Landing when it hadn't been his turn to keep watch over Robert as he ate, drunk, fucked and slept. He had woken up, gone through his rituals of the morn, cleansing himself, breaking his fast and sparing with one of his able sworn brothers before setting out to do his duty.

That was until Cersei had called for him...he remembered thinking she was calling him for nothing else but to sate their need for each other..._,that had been his mistake,_ he had thought that was what she had in mind when she asked all her attendants to leave her chambers but she had something else entirely in mind.

He had learnt that after his kisses were repeatedly getting shrugged off; Cersei had implored him to sit and listen to her, for what she had to say was urgent and could not wait for later and that they could always sate themselves of their need for each other some other time.

Thinking it would be easier and best to let her get whatever was on her mind said and out of the way, so...they could put their time alone to more proper... use; he had relented, sat himself on her bed though she had oddly kept standing by the hearth, pacing; curious he asked her to say her piece while he still had patience and strength in him to fight his desire for her.

* * *

_Why are you so agitated? He asked curious about, what could have changed from yesterday evening, the time, he saw her last. His best guess was it either had to do with Robert or the Children, though he couldn't understand what could have prompted this odd behavior from his sister; she had long learnt to suffer Robert's slights and manage her children._

_Cersei stopped her pacing but didn't turn around to face him; her arms were crossed and she seemed to be peering at the flickering hearth fire._

"_Cersei..."he called out soothingly, trying to implore her to turn around and talk to him. Though she did turn around, she still had her hands crossed; hugging herself,he noticed .There was something amiss. He tried to stand and go to her...but she gestured for him to sit back down, so he did, how odd._

"_What's the matter...?" he asked worriedly._

_Hesitantly, she replied "Robert means to foster both Orys and Joffrey "_

"_What!...surely you jest, is this some jape of Robert's?"He asked startled, amused even, he hadn't expected her to say such a thing._

"_No...He means to take my children from me, Jaime...he means to take our... son "She replied in a distraught voice, body trembling. Joffrey was her favorite; it was plain for all to see. Which worried him sometimes; her favoritism of the boy...their son, could; given time hasten the discovery of their deceit...he stood up, meaning to comfort her but she shook her head no..."No, Jaime let me finish, there is more..."He ignored her, making it to her in four quick strides; the hug muffling her. She could be so obstinate at times but so could he. He swaddled her in his arms...trying to soothe her trembling._

"_Whatever it is, we can deal with it together as we have always done besides father would make it difficult for Robert to accomplish this scheme of his...father will make Lord Arryn see the folly in this and through him your sot of a husband "He replied , trying to reassure her everything would be made right._

"_I don't think father will be of any help to us ...Jaime "She replied in a resigned voice, confusing him._

"_Nonsense, father will stop this folly, once he hears of it "He anxiously reassured her but there still existed some doubt…Cersei sounded so sure, sure there wouldn't be any help from their Lord father but why?. She tried to shrug out of his embrace; he relented and gave her a bit of space...but he still held on to her at arm's reach, his hands on her shoulders._

"_He won't..."she forcibly shrugged off his hands and made for the wine flagon on the table by her windows ,poured herself a glass and then made for her bed and sat down by the foot of it, sipping the wine. He didn't follow; he instead remained by the hearth, curiously gazing at her. _

"_Why wouldn't he..?"He inquired baffled and a little anxious. _

"_Father won't, because that oaf Robert is giving him, Joffrey to page and squire"Cersei replied in a bitter, resigned voice. He could understand her bitterness...once word made it to Castelyrock, their Lord father would be more than willing to accept the offer to foster Joffrey. There was little Cersei could do in this circumstances, where their Lord father could easily be slighted if the offer to foster one of his grandsons was rescinded._

"_What of Orys then...to the North with his beloved prickly old friend, Eddard Stark; I suppose?"Neither Robert nor Lord Arryn would willingly foster Orys at Casterlyrock so that just left the North with the honorable Lord Stark. He asked amused by Robert's predictability...there was no other man, Robert trusted or loved more in the Realm than mayhaps Jon Arryn than Eddard Stark. Even eight years on, he couldn't help but feel slighted by the way...the honorable Lord Stark had found him sat on the Iron throne...the Mad king at the food of the throne caked in his own blood... and judged him wanting...a man with shit for honor._

"_No...Orys won't be going to winterfell" she replied bitterly._

"_What...Where...who... who else would Robert trust with his eldest son and heir above his much beloved and the honorably vaunted Eddard Stark in the seven kingdoms "he asked startled, confused and a bit shaken._

"_Why, you of course... Jaime. By a soon to be edict of the Hand and King, You will be accompanying Orys to Old town as his sworn sword and shield. Who better to protect the crown prince than his own blood and flesh, his very own Kingsguard uncle…so spake, my oaf of a husband "Cersei Replied in a rueful voice then took several gulps of her wine._

"_What... What do you mean?"He asked startled with the little wits left to him...after all...his world had just been torn asunder. Surely this was some jape, what in the name of the seven gods...did she mean? _

_Cersei laughed and then ____shook her head _ruefully.

"_What I mean, Jaime is that we have been outplayed by that wily Old hand of Robert's. Outplayed when we didn't even know there was a game to be played "she replied spitefully and barely in control of her rage._

_Cersei was the lucky one here, she had her spite and rage...while he had nothing...but a numbness that had over taken him the moment her words, finally made a measure of sense to him and the little wits that were back from his broken mind. Out...he had to get out of here...out of Cersei's rooms._

"_I have to go, let's speak more on this later Cersei, for now...; let me be "He quietly said as he made his way to her chamber Doors._

_All he could think ,of as he made haste for Cersei's chamber doors while his startled sister called out for him to stop in anger and desperation... was the accursed white cloak. She was lost and seeking answers but so was he; he didn't know how to possibly make it go away...though all he could think of only were his accursed oaths and vows to the King and the damnable white cloak at the moment. _

_Once upon a time, the white cloak had been all that he had ever wished or asked for...for it bestowed upon him ways to always be at his beloved sister's side, a chance at fame, glory and legend the likes of the select few legendary Knights in the realm, he had admired in his youth; Aemon the dragon Knight, Barristan the bold, his idol Ser Arthur Dayne-the sword of the morning...that was until the cloak had taken his honor..Stolen his knightly dreams and now... mayhaps his beloved sister Cersei as well. The gods were a cruel and fickle lot...always toying, tormenting men ...giving them hope and then snatching it away, right from under their feet when they least expected it. His life was becoming a jape...in the eyes of gods and men; a play thing to the gods, a man with shit for honor to the fickle men of westeros and now a soon to be Lackey for a boy ,a nephew who was barely old enough to wipe his own ass._

_Robert's damnable heir was becoming a nuisance, it had all started with him...the boy was a constant source of fear and strife in his life. _

_Cersei had thought to have the boy to appease their Lord father and win Robert's affections but it was all for naught because that sot was still bond to Stark's sisters ghost and fucking anything that fit his fancy. Her desire for the Oaf's affections had all but shriveled during their two week stay in Greenstone during a royal visit where Robert had fucked some cousin of his. She had all but given up and sworn off the sot and sort him out in anger; to...Comfort...her, he wasn't sure but mayhaps that wretched place was where Joffrey was conceived. Their first child...their son; a son, Cersei couldn't even let him pretend was a nephew to him for the benefit of the realm,she always kept at arm's length from him._

_Then came a difficult four years for them after Joffrey's birth...Cersei had become paranoid, afraid someone may discover their deception, it had taken her almost four years to even think of giving birth to another child until She had realized her saving grace; Orys's dark Lannister eyes._

_Then came Myrcella, their daughter...then Tommen, Robert's other true born son; a child she had birthed to make sure they were above suspicion if anything. The boy had the Baratheon look, black of hair and blue of eyes; though he hated that Cersei had done it...he admired her cunning...who would question the children's legitimacy. After all if the rumors were true, Roberts dear old friend; Eddard stark had four true born children, three with Tully coloring and only one with the stark Look._

_If he was being true to himself, he knew there existed very small parts within him and...mayhaps cersei;ruled by fear of discovery...beneath their grief, spite and rage...that were relieved; Joffrey and Orys were getting fostered._

_ The very thought angered him though because...it seemed like a betrayal of their love and...acknowledgment...that what they were doing and had between them was... wrong.  
_

_He needed to slash and hack something but for that he needed a victi...a volunteer._

* * *

Cravens, the whole dammed lot of them.

None among his sworn brothers wanted to spar with him not even the stoic and dead eyed Mandon Moore, they all kept on, finding excuse after excuse mayhaps, sensing he was in a foul mood and didn't want to be the victims of his mindless wrath. He might have been the Kingslayer; a man with shit for honor...but none denied his skill with the sword.

So he was stuck prowling the halls of the Redkeep, looking for distraction. Wishing his father could let Tyrion leave Casterlyrock for a few moon turns;if he were here, he could have sought him out by now. Tyrion always knew how to raise his spirits but alas he wasn't here and he was beginning to lack for distraction. That was until he happened upon a curious sight down below in one of the Red keep's barrack yards...the master at arms; Aron Santgar seemed to be having a frustrating lesson with the cause of his discontent mind, his nephew crown prince Orys.

Hidden in the shadows of an alcove window above the yard, he observed the odd pair, their lesson and his sworn brother Mandon Moore hidden in the shadows, standing guard. If Cersei's words held true, his soon to be ward looked to be sweating in his padded leathers while the Dornish Master at arms looked very frustrated in his cottons and linens. His young nephew preferred spending most of his free time; nose buried in books than at swordplay that was until Robert and the hand had some serious words with him about skipping his arms lessons...mayhaps even threatening to bar the boy from his books or the Red Keep's library.

"No...No...No my prince, widen your stance; if you have too little purchase on the ground, you could so easily be made to taste the dirt under your feet". The Dornish man loudly admonished his young nephew.

He watched as Aron Santgar went through several different sword guards and strokes before asking his nephew to do as he was just shown, the young prince complied though not as perfectly as Santgar wanted but it was progress none the less to the master. The lack of proficiency from Orys was to be expected at his young age despite his repeated skipped lessons, not even he; the Lion of Lannister at that young age was without flaw at swordplay despite the fine training and tutelage his Lord father ensured was provided for him as his father's son and heir during his younger years of training. Though, no one not even the master of arms at Casterlyrock could deny that Lord Tywin's son and heir didn't have the talent or vigor plenty enough for it, in leagues worth.

He kept on watching as Santgar kept drilling his young nephew on the finer points of swordplay; though much could be said about the Dornishman's repute with the sword compared to him and the many other knights within the keep; despite his low repute, the Dornishman could not be said to be a fool. It was proven through the little he could make out of his nephew's and the master of arms conversation beneath the din of sparring wooden swords;the Dornishman stressed the importance of sword fundamentals and always fighting with your wits about you. He was so lost in thought with his eyes and ears focused on the two down below train that he did not realize; he was no longer alone in the alcove until the Arryn Guardsman called out to him in an inquiring voice.

"Ser Jaime...?" The vale man called out. How long had he been there without him fully comprehending his presence? Such lack of vigilance was too dangerous and unworthy of a knight of the Kingsguard especially in this snake pit of a Keep.

He favored the Arryn household guard with irritation to cover up his surprise but answered him none the less, "Yes".

"Lord Arryn would like for you to join him. He has sent for me to escort you "the vale man replied indifferent to his irritation though he did favor him with undisguised contempt. The special brand of contempt afforded to him as the Kingslayer, a man without honor...the remainder roused his ebbing anger and foul mood at what possibly awaited him, if his sister was to be believed. He was very tempted to remove the sneer from the man's face but thought better of such unfitting behavior, there were other ways.

He turned his back fully from the alcove window then curtly replied, "Lead the way, then my good... Ser", a little sarcastic venom sipping into his voice, to warn the knight he would not be trifled with or looked down upon by one such as him.

Now weary of him, the guards man swiftly began to lead the way to his liege Lord without issue,wanting to be out of his presence with due haste.

As they made their presumed way through the halls and stairs of the Redkeep to the Hand of the King; he was surprised they were not making their way to the tower of the Hand but the familiar passage to the drawbridge leading into Maegor' s Hold fast and the Royal nodded in acknowledgement of his recently sworn in brother Arys Oakheart and crossed the drawbridge into the hold fast, he began to feel uneasy; mayhaps there was some truth to Cersei's words about Robert fostering his son...two sons. Joffrey was no son of his; he had to remember that for his own sake, to prevent the slip of his tongue at some unfortunate moment or company...Joffrey was only s squirt of a seed nothing more; Cersei had made sure of that.

As they finally came upon, King Roberts Chamber Doors with Ser Preston Greenfield standing Sentry outside them. He began to feel afraid…give him a sword and an enemy to slay and he would dive in head long, sword poised, gallant and unafraid but what was he do if this fostering folly turned out to be true:he couldn't survive...leagues away from Cersei…, a sworn shield to a nephew, he hardly knew for unknown number of years in a queer city. Why couldn't it have been Casterlyrock?

He bade Preston greeting while the Hand's guards made his presence know to both Lord Arryn and King Robert. He marshaled all the strength in him and walked in as the Vale guards man made his way out.

* * *

The only things of note in the Kings chamber were the massive double four poster feather bed, the massive two hearths and the half empty glass flagon on the table the king sat behind.

"Finally, I was beginning to wonder if you would make your damned way here Kingslayer "an irritated Robert called out the moment he stepped into the Kings sparsely decorated chamber while Jon Arryn who stood behind the king favored him with a more self controlled, apologetic, understanding and courteous greeting ." Jaime thank you for coming, we have much to discuss".

He didn't like it when, Old Arryn called him by his given name, it was very disconcerting hearing it from someone other than family, it implied a closeness between them that wasn't there. The least the old croak could do was call him Ser Jaime, he might have been sworn into the Kingsguard to spite his Lord father but he had earned his knighthood.

He bowed and then apologized not because he thought he was in the wrong but for the sake of courtesy and the mummers farce that was the Kingsguard, "my apologies your grace; it won't be happening the next time, you call"

"I don't want to hear your damned false courtesies, kingsl…"He winced ,the king had loudly began replying before he was interrupted.

"Robert!" admonished his irritated hand who then laid his hand on the King's shoulder to dissuade him from that line of pointless talk "We don't have time for…this, we have much to discuss" .Then retracted his hand.

The king reached for the flagon and poured himself wine to the brim of his glass, took a gulp and then sighed and replied resigned to doing things his Hands way "Alright; let's get this over and done with Jon, I have a hunt to go to "

Robert always went hunting, every time he wanted to run from something. Every time he didn't want to deal something or close his eyes to them; the king lived such an odd little pitiful way of life, empty and broken. For all his excessive passions…oddly for a man of his high station, Robert lacked the necessary passions for ruling and court intrigue to the despair of his wife and hoped Robert wasn't running from,what he suspected as reason for why he was here...

"Of course, let's not keep each other long, we all have duties to accomplish and things to do after all "the old Lord and warden of the East and current hand of the king replied, vexed with his kings behavior.

"Your grace, my Lord; how can I be of use to you "He asked, hoping to put a rush to this particular scheme and getting it over and done with ,So he may come to his...own terms with it.

"Ah yes, tell us Jaime? How fair your Lord Father and brother? "Lord Arryn asked congenially with a curious gleam in his eyes while the King sipped his wine and observed him casually and with such intent eyes. Why were they asking about his Lord Father and Tyrion of all people? ...he had thought it would be about Orys...and Old Town.

"Jaime..?" the hand prompted when he seemed to drift off.

"What's wrong Kingslayer...not had enough of your beauty sleep yet?"The King sarcastically asked while guffawing into his wine glass before taking a finishing gulp of his wine which he then filled up once more, Lord Arryn afforded the King an amused annoyed look.

Robert and his Hand had a very...queer father and son relationship;he supposed that was why Jon Arryn found it both easy to convince and difficult to dissuade Robert of a many things unlike many in the small council.

"I had ample enough sleep, your grace...I was just surprised because not that many people ask how my father and brother fair?"

"Well off course not; your father would rather be feared than loved, Kingslayer...why I would never know?" the king Pondered but after pause continued "but tell me of your brother Tyrion the Dwarf, from the rumors that make it to the Redkeep; he sounds like a man after my own heart "the king amusingly inquired and then continued "Your Lord father should let him come to court...I dare say he would be the only Lannister I would get along with".

"Am sure you would your grace but father has more use of Tyrion at Casterlyrock...mayhaps in a few years. Father is in good health and asks of his grandchildren but why do you ask? "He lied but answered diplomatically, knowing his Lord father would never entertain a friendship between Robert and Tyrion,it would be too disastrous and ruinous for his tastes.

"Bugger that...Lannister, what's the use of forever hiding the Dwarf under the rock "Robert replied annoyed.

"Robert perhaps, we should not stray from why we asked Jaime to join us. You can talk of Tyrion coming to court; next Lord Tywin comes to court?"

"Yes, you just may have the right of it, Jon. I will talk to the Old Lion myself, what do you think Lannister?"The King responded.

"That would be best; I would like to see more of my brother at court "he replied, trying to gauge their reaction to his false hope,that Tyrion would join him at court for years to come but Robert hid any reaction through drinking more of his wine while Jon Arryn remained Stoic behind the king.

* * *

Jon Arryn cleared his throat then answered his earlier question, "We asked because we sent your Lord father a letter three days past inquiring, if he would assert to Joffrey's becoming his ward, page and squire?"

Three days ago but Cersei seemed to have been informed only last night, what did it mean? Did they want to know if his Lord father had written him a letter on their inquiry or what he thought of the idea?

"I don't quite understand how that..."he began to ask.

The king interrupted, mayhaps reading his thoughts "We want to know if he will be happy enough fostering Joffrey instead of Orys?"

"Orys..?" he feigned ignorance though Jon Arryn and Robert glanced at each other and then gave him surprised, assessing looks...mayhaps surprised he didn't already know; meaning Cersei hadn't already told him.

"Yes, we mean to foster Orys too...with the Hightowers at Old town?"Jon Arryn replied and all but revealed his own fate too. Cersei was telling the truth after all then, what was he to do?

"Am sure my Lord father, would be happy enough fostering Joffrey "he replied but on the condition that they sufficiently gave him enough reason. "Though, if you don't mind me, asking; why not send them both to Casterlyrock in the first place?"He inquired.

"It would defeat the purpose and reason of why we are fostering them to begin with "Jon Arryn replied though refused to further clarify, confusing him.

"The boys, fight too dam much Kingslayer and it would do them a lot more good being fostered away from each other "the king gruffly answered."Your father is the only one Cersei would trust and consent to fostering Joffrey and the only Lord, as much as I don't like it...that would have a better chance of grooming him. The other southron Lords would spoil and indulge the boy too much...Joffrey needs...a firmer hand to groom him into a man of duty and Lord of Dragonstone.. for that he must be away from your sister, his older brother and Kings landing"

Yes, there was some truth to it; Joffrey was too willful, spiteful and arrogant a child to entrust to other Lords, who would sooner send him back in defeat or indulge him than truly do what, was needed to properly groom him.

"What of Orys your grace, why send him to Old town when your brother Lord Stannis or your dear old friend Lord Eddard would do? He asked the King, seeking to be certain of his own fate.

The king sat back in his seat, arms and hands on the table and then answered him after a pause ". Leyton Hightower is that Oaf Mace Terrell's good father and if we were to foster Orys at Highgarden...Mace would see that as clear permission to court my son as his good son than groom him, I can't have that; better he thought there was a chance than permission". A strange look passed through Lord Arryn's face...though mayhaps Robert dreamed of finally uniting the Baratheon and Stark houses in marriage, by betrothing his heir to Eddard's eldest daughter...what was her name... the court and realm expected it;Sansa ...Sansa stark was her name. Though it wouldn't stop Mace Tyrell trying as Robert thought,it was too tempting not to.

"Jon had the right of it though, we already have allies in the North, the Riverlands and the vale; we need to curry favor with the Reach...and Dorne". Robert continued.

Dorne!

"Besides Joffrey would never leave or would resent the fact that Orys was being fostered at Storm's end with his uncle, who was at court most of the time and Stannis would find some slight in me fostering his son and then asking him to raise mine "The king added and finished ruefully.

"Dorne...your grace? "He asked startled. What was going on? Cersei made no mention of Dorne but then again he had fled her chambers before...it seemed, before she could tell him everything,dam his impatience.

"We plan on having Edric squire at Sunspear when he is ready and old enough "replied the Hand.

"Is that safe, my Lord and does Lord Stannis consent? "He asked bewildered

"Yes...Stannis consents and it should be safe enough; the Dornish wouldn't want to inflame the realm and start a war with the murder...of the Kings nephew". Lord Arryn answered clearly uncomfortable with the...bloody irony. This was getting far more complicated than I thought.

"It's getting about time; I went for my Hunt Jon. Let's finish this "Robert prompted after looking out his windows and reminding them that they had been at this for quite some time now.

"Ah, yes... true enough Robert; we all do have other business to accomplish "replied the Old hand.

Thinking that was the end of it,he asked to be excused.

"Beg your Pardons, if that's all your grace, my Lord "he bowed and then addressed them both" I would like to go about my duties "Mayhaps Cersei had been wrong or they had changed their minds.

The king gave his hand a queer glance and then looked back at him. "There is more Lannister..." more it couldn't be..."Bugger this Jon;I don't have time for this,you do the pleasures...I have to go hunting... I can't keep Renly and the others waiting any longer". Jon Arryn gave Robert a vexed scornful look as he stood up..."Don't look at me that way...I agreed didn't I "the king playfully replied as began walking to the door.

He bowed bewildered as the King made for his chamber doors, leaving him and Lord Arryn oddly alone in the Chamber.

* * *

Clearly annoyed at Robert's leave; Jon Arryn, walked from behind the table where he had stood most of their conversation and looked at him intently; making him very uneasy.

"Ser Jaime Lannister "Lord Arryn called out formally, startling him mayhaps trying to restore some civility to the odd situation and make quick of it.

He bowed and then replied with the courtesy ingrained in him and the one to be afforded Jon Arryn as the Hand of the king,"Yes my Lord hand".

" When Leyton Hightower does accept the offer to foster the Crown prince at Old town; Robert and I would like for you and a knight Robert has chosen from the stormlands to accompany him to Old town as his sworn shields and swords "Jon Arryn replied and continued solemnly.

And there it was...though he was surprised that he would not be fulfilling his solemn... duties alone because there was no doubt in his mind ;Lord Leyton would accept such an uncommon honor being given to him...there were too many variables for him to decline the Iron throne's offer.

"What knight my Lord?"He asked though Jon Arryn did give him a searching look for his lack of surprise,he could care less at this stage,his fate was sealed.

"Rolland Storm, the bastard of Night song. Robert was very impressed with him during Orys's seventh name day tourney". An excellent swordsman, he had won the small melee organized, beating some of his sworn brothers,he remembered.

"An excellent knight "he replied. Lord Arryn nodded his head in consent-ion of his assessment and then asked him after a heart beat,the question he dreaded most.

"Do you accept?"

What other choice did he have? He couldn't very well refuse, he was forever sworn to the Kingsguard and its duties. Though he knew it had more do to with court intrigue... and appeasing his Lord father on this particular scheme than his skill with a sword. After a few heart beats, he bowed and answered his calling.

"I Do..."

* * *

**Five days later.**

* * *

There were raven received from Casterlyrock, the Hightower and NightSong all accepting the offers to foster Prince Orys and Joffrey Baratheon and protect the crown prince as his sworn shield and sword respectively.

And in those five days;he had grudgingly accepted his fate with some reluctant help and convincing from Cersei .

They might not see as much of each other as they would have wished or envisioned but that didn't mean they couldn't during tourneys or name days.

* * *

**A moon turn, later.**

* * *

Both princes; began their respective journeys to Old town and Casterlyrock though they were understandably a mixture of odd emotions;confused,afraid ,sad and excited.

* * *

**Authors Note:**

**I had to end it or I would have kept on going...  
**

**I won't be updating as much as I would like in the next few weeks.I have a lot of things to attend to and so little time to.  
**

**until next time,ja ne**

**Reviews are welcome**


	5. The Impudent Fool

**Here is chapter five,read and review.**

* * *

**Chapter V**

* * *

**Orys Baratheon**

**290AL**

**The Reach**

* * *

**Highgarden castle yard**

Into his Wheelhouse, he once again went.

He was beginning to hate it; he had been mostly within its modest spacing his entire journey from Kings landing to Old town while four horses trotted on and pulled the wheelhouse along at a nice and steady pace...well mayhaps not his entire journey, they had to stop at Bitter-bridge, inns and then... finally Highgarden to treat and for the sake of Lodging.

But it was vexing all the same...for he had to stay in the wheelhouse all by himself while his Kingsguard uncle, Ser Rolland his sworn shield and a retinue of guards men; some gold cloaks, Baratheon men, Lannister, Tyrell and Hightower men who had joined them at Highgarden as a honor guard to escort them the last leagues of their journey to Old town rode horses. Once only thirty men escorted him to Old town; now a pride of fifty strong Knights and guards' men did and yet...he still remained in his wheelhouse, alone with his books for company.

When their journey to Old town had begun, he had been glad and relieved to have been left alone in the wheelhouse because he had begun weeping silently the moment they had left Kings Landing. He had been too sad and afraid he would never see his mother,... father, Joffrey or play with his little sister Myrcella and baby brother Tommen ever again for a very long time; no matter how much his parents and Lord Arryn said otherwise. They had reassured him, it wouldn't be so before he had taken the Rose road to Old town but he knew fostering didn't work that way; you didn't get to see your parents especially if they were the king and queen any time you wanted or wished...otherwise, what would have been the point of fostering people in the first place.

So he had wept as silently as he could while the wheelhouse made its way through the Kingswood until he couldn't anymore; knowing they had lied to him and it could possibly be a very long time before he saw his family in Kings landing ever again. He didn't even know why he was truly being fostered...had he displeased his parents; disappointed...his father yet again or mayhaps tried his mothers patience far too much?

* * *

After that he had kept to his books, his uncle's side and tried to be courteous to the other knights, guard's men and free riders as much as possible, Ser Rolland Storm was especially very intimidating; he had rarely talked to him which was passing odd because he was his sworn sword.

They had stayed in an inn before traveling on and enjoying the castle comforts of Bitterbridge, crossed the Mander twice, passed wheat fields, orchards and stayed in inns before reaching the seat of the Tyrell's at Highgarden.

He had enjoyed their slightly longer stay in Highgarden very much,Lord Tyrell had been most insistent but now it was time to move on; they were leaving in the morn during the early hours of the dawn while most of the keep slept, the skies a mixture of yellows, oranges and reds with a mild chill in the air. He had said his goodbyes to Margaery and Lady Olenna after the farewell feast last night and just a minute ago to Lord Tyrell before he got into his wheelhouse.

He might as well begin reading one of his books as he waited for the wheelhouse to begin moving; as he turned to the stack of books on his left and began searching for one that was interesting and fascinating, which happened to be "The Princess and The Queen by Archmaester Gyldayn" a book that detailed the civil war between the Targaryens, called the Dance of the Dragons; a book he had recently borrowed...and began reading, then he heard the wheelhouse door open. He looked back startled...it was Gunthor Hightower, Lord Leyton's third son and Lord Mace Tyrell's good brother.

He paused, mayhaps realizing that he had startled him entering the wheelhouse unannounced, his proof mayhaps being the sight of my widened eyes and...My hammering heart ...a heart, he couldn't possibly hear. Could he? he had been so startled, he had felt the heavy beat of his heart in his ears.

"My apologies; if I startled you Prince Orys, I was wondering if mayhaps I could join you?" he asked in an amused... apologetic voice.

He decided he didn't like him, what right had he to mock him when he was the one at fault here...startling him like that; the least he could have done was knock...though knocking on a wheelhouse door sounded even queer to him on second thought. Not wanting to be got the best of...he readily composed himself and decided to invite the darkly dressed Hightower in to join him, his newly chosen book on his lap.

Looking him straight in the eyes, he replied courteously "You may Ser Gunthor", and he watched as Gunthor Hightower; Lord Leyton's third son and the head of his honour guard to Old town climbed in and sat opposite him. Dressed in wools, linens and about two and twenty name days old, ashen of hair, blue eyes, handsome with a face lined with laugh lines

Though he did not have the faintest inkling of what Gunthor wanted and what they could possibly talk about for...the entire journey to come. He could readily admit he hated being alone inside the wheelhouse...yet he had gotten used to this lack of company since he had left kings Landing; so he had read his books and on occasion enjoyed the scenery his little windows allowed him to see. He hadn't expected to have any company at all; what to d-...and the carriage began moving, the horses slowly trotting along, down through the cobbled path ways of Highgarden and making their way leisurely down to the keeps main gate.

* * *

**Rose Road**

* * *

Awkward

It was getting somewhat awkward in the Wheelhouse...because there had been barely any words spoken between him and Ser Gunthor since their...awkward introduction and their small talk of his time at Highgarden in the few minutes Ser Gunthor had gotten into his wheelhouse.

He had hesitantly and awkwardly at first talked of the various things...the obvious things Ser Gunthor would expect to hear from him, all the while he had wanted, nothing more than to read his book alone in the earlier comfort of silence and peace in his wheelhouse before Ser Gunthor had stolen it. So he had grudgingly talked of things he had loved about his stay at Highgarden; the many fruit orchards, the majestic tiered castle of Highgarden that once belonged to the great kings of the Reach; the Gardeners of old and the hawking he had taken part in.

Willas Tyrell, the only son among Lord Mace Tyrell's three sons who wasn't being squired or paged at the moment; though it was obvious why not...his crippled leg. Had introduced him to hawking and even gifted him a hawk of his own to keep and practice his hawking during his fostering at Old town. He had been very thankful...swift wing; he had named it for it swift flight, was at the moment resting in its cag-

"What were you about to read before I rudely interrupted you?"His companion halted his thoughts and cut through the heavy silence about them with his question asked in a rueful tone.

"The Princess and the Queen by Archmaester Gyldayn" He replied curtly and to the point, then looked at the book on his lap; he must have been touching the book in longing without his wits or body about him. Ser Gunthor must have noticed his longing hands or straying glances down at the small tome.

A queer tight look... passed through Ser Gunthor's face for a moment...then it was gone; replaced by mirth in his eyes and a rueful smile that set off warning bells in his mind and made him quiet uneasy;"I didn't take you for one who read little maiden books Prince Orys "He asked in an amused sarcastic voice.

"..."

Then it dawned on him, he could feel his cheeks heat up in embarrassment and anger at the insinuation "it's no little maiden's book; it's a book about the Dance of Dragons. The Targaryens fighting among each other for the iron throne "He spoke in a rush; angry and embarrassed and then opened a page to shown him a picture showing one of the legendary Dragon battles and then he continued on to reply, sure of himself "so you see its no little girl's book"

"What's the difference, Prince Orys? Little girls and maidens alike also read books on dragons and gallant knights all the time; there is no shame in you admitting that you read such books my Prince "Gunthor replied in mock sympathetic seriousness.

His answer was a frosty glare and a reply ground out in an angry quiet voice "it's no little maiden's book"

Relenting, Gunthor tried to reply in an a biddable voice; mayhaps realising he didn't appreciate the jape "very well but isn't it a bit of a heavy a read fo-"

"For a boy my age, you mean "he finished a little bit of his bottled resentment and ebbing anger sipping into his biting voice. He had heard this far too often from his uncle Renly, mother and... father. _"A boy your age shouldn't be buried nose deep in dusty old tomes Orys...but at sword play or child play. My son the young maester..."_ They would shake their heads in wonderment and then speak in sarcastic, worried... disappointed and disgruntled voices.

Gunthor Hightower raised his hands in mock surrender, favouring him with a startled and measuring look and then replied,"No, that's not what I meant to say. I meant to say...for the morn. Your uncle told me of your love of reading, so I wasn't at all surprised... at your choice of reading but merely curious"

Dubious,red faced, all that he could do was utter an embarrassed quiet "oh"

"Yes...Oh. Do you make it, a habit of interrupting people before they are done speaking? Ser Gunthor mirthfully replied and asked

"No..."He heisted then replied a sheepish grin on his face "sorry ". Knowing all too well, he did sometimes... interrupt people...quiet a lot. To be fair...most of the time,his interruptions were made or done in self defense or... when he felt Joffrey was being particularly witless...which happened to be most of the time or when someone was being ...

Ser Gunthor Hightower smiled mirthfully and then laughed, "I thought as much".

He replied by favoring the Hightower with a mirthless look...there was no need to mock him any further in his own very humble opinion especially after he had apologized.

"No need to look so grim my Prince. We are just having a little bit of fun and jape...fortunately or unfortunately depending on who you ask, it just happens to be at your expense. So try laughing or even smiling a little, Septons and Septas alike do say they are a good remedy for the soul". Gunthor replied in an amused and playful voice.

"..."

...Septons...Septas...what in the name of the seven did h-

"I highly recommend it, given your... hmm ...sunny disposition my Princ- "

He threw his book at the impudent fool's head; finally reaching his limit of japes but missed his target all the same. Ser Gunthor was taken back a moment...and so was he, himself...a little but then Ser Gunthor began laughing. So he threw another for good measure...since no scolding came his way and once again... frustratingly missed. So he picked up another but... the ruckus had woken swift wing from her peaceful slumber, perched in her cage, carefully hanging and tucked away at the wheelhouse's corners on Gunthor's left. Swift wing looked very unhappy; he guessed... as best as he could from the hawks features.

Mean while Gunthor was hiding...his right hand held one of the small tomes, he had thrown earlier; a tome at the moment, Gunthor mockingly and shamelessly hide behind it to protect himself from his continued onslaught of books and tomes that would be thrown his way, half of his face was on the lookout hidden from behind the tome and his single visible blue eye filled with mirth.

But something else caught his gaze midst the ruckus and laughter; a glitter of small metal links around Ser Gunthor, right hand wrist. How had he not seen that, during the two odd days since Gunthor had arrived at Highgarden from Old town? Granted the bracelet was an odd looking thing; made of leather strip and fastening, with the three clicks at the centre; Tin, Pewter and Gold; Maester chain metal links...it couldn't be, could it...?

* * *

He noticed Ser...Gunthor had put down the tome; he had hidden his face behind, a look of confusion on his face. Lost in thought, silence once again engulfed the wheelhouse...

Uneasy and intrigued, Ser Gunthor asked "What is it?"

Seeing no other way about it, he decided to be blunt; so he began ,firstly by pointing at the odd bracelet on Gunthor's right hand wrist and then asking his questions "Given your age ser Gunthor, you are about one and twenty or two and twenty; have you finished your studies at the Citadel or just began them?

His answer was a queer look from Ser Gunthor, which puzzled and made him a bit uneasy, "what?" he asked in an anxious voice

Still having that queer look on his face Ser Gunthor asked him "On the night of my arrival at Highgarden; I seem to remember Lord Tyrell, vigorously regaling you about myself and House Hightower...?" His answer was a blank and confused look, all he remembered was being very tired ,bidding Ser Gunthor welcome and wishing for a warm bed..."you weren't fully listening then or now, are you Prince Orys?"

The question broke him out of thoughts and made him realize he had been caught not listening; he glanced away not willing to look Ser Gunthor in the eyes, cheeks red; he could feel them warm from embarrassment.

"I thought as much, I had my suspicions that night but I did not have the heart at the time to tell Lord Tyrell; you weren't listening..."

"Nor will you "he couldn't help the way his voice came out as begging. Lord Tyrell loved his airs as much as Grandmaester Pycelle did...his long winded talks with Grandmaester Pycelle had taught him how, out of genuine need... to keep his face composed, eyes alight with interest and to nod and laugh at the correct times...it seemed not work with ser Gunthor or mayhaps... Grandmaester Pycelle humored his lack of courtesy...either way he would have to practice.

"Of course not "he replied taken back, as if it obvious he would not do such a thing.

Happy that his discourteous behavior would never reach the ears of Lord Tyrell or his family at Kings landing, he got back to his earlier questions, "So...?" because while his father would mostly likely think it funny...it was his mother, Lord Arryn and his Uncle Stannis's reactions, he dreaded most.

"So..."Ser Gunthor replied back, confused.

Seeing his folly, he composed himself and asked his question in a more proper way "So how long did you study at the citadel?"

"What makes you think I have left the citadel, my Prince?"Ser Gunthor asked in an amused voice with mirth in his eyes.

"Well... you are quiet old not to be a maester yet and you only have three links; mayhaps you left, happy with the three..."He stopped when he saw the look on Gunthor's face...he looked a bit insulted ,the easy smile that was on his face earlier straining.

"Sorry..."he quickly uttered wanting to make amends.

Ser Gunthor nodded, the easy smile back on his face," Maester!, whatever makes you think I want to be one in the first place and where did you get the silly idea that you have to be a Maester at twenty?"His eye twitched at being called silly but said nothing of it, he paused a moment then replied.

"Grandmaester Pycelle was one at twenty... I thought since he went there at about ten; so did you. Any way, why go to the Citadel at all in the first place, if you don't mean to be become a Maester?"He asked confused.

Ser Gunthor gave him a queer look, signed and then replied "Given how different you are to children your age..."he could feel his face tighten in annoyance,he was tired of being thought queer "I don't mean it as a slight Prince Orys" Ser Gunthor quickly corrected "I sometimes forget you are a boy of seven..."

"Seven and five moons "he impudently interrupted as a matter of pride. Though their conversation had been awkward in the beginning...he found himself more at ease with Gunthor as it went on ,enough to be free with his words...unlike how...things were in the Redkeep. Even at his young age...he had learned not too long ago; to measure his words...his father had seen...to he still felt the sting on his cheeks..

"Stop interrupting" Ser Gunthor bemusedly exclaimed, mayhaps he too lost in the ease of their conversation.

"Okay that the last time I do..."he replied a little mirth in his voice. Gunthor gave him a doubtful look but...accepted his words all the same and began with a rueful look in his eyes.

"Where was I? .A yes... for a boy his age who reads obsessively and is somewhat intelligent. You are still nothing but green in your learning and lack certain wisdom..."His eyes tightened in suspicion remembering Gunthor's love of mocks and japes , but relented and asked "what does that mean?"

Gunthor Smiled and then replied "What I mean to say is that, for a boy with an obvious love of learning. You are easily forgetting what people do at the citadel...they go there to learn whether they be nine, twenty or even fifty. Not all of them go there with the aim of becoming Maesters but to learn and sharpen their minds and not all those who go there to become Maesters are lucky enough to forge links enough or at all to become one"

"Oh..." he replied feeling somewhat stupid; when Gunthor said it that way, it became so painfully obvious ,it hurt but then something occurred to him, Gunthor had three links "How long have you been at the Citadel then Gunthor...Ser Gunthor?"He asked in a hurry, almost greedy to know.

Gunthor gave him an amused look and then replied, "You can call me Gunthor in here my prince and it has... almost been a year..."a bit of pride in his voice.

Three links already,that was impressive; how many would he have in three, five years? He began to look at Gunthor in a new light; perhaps Ser Gunthor wasn't such an impudent fool after all. He was an clever man...clever enough to forge three links in under a year at the Citadel.

"How is it?" he asked intrigued

"How's what? Gunthor replied.

"The Citadel "he replied in quiet excitement. Grandmaester Pycelle had never said much more than what some of metals in his chain meant and how old he was at the time he entered the Citadel and when he swore his vows...all in the voice of an old man remembering his younger days fondly before sending him off to his Septa.

"The citadel...I suppose ,we could talk of it; we do have about five to seven hours of our journey left at the pace we are moving. He said after looking out the window

"Where do I begin...the very beginning or should we skip...

"The beginning..."he interrupted after all what good was a story if you skipped its beginnings. It would never make any sense if you did,his book had been all but forgotten in his excitement.

* * *

**Near seven hours later on**

* * *

He swore he had never seen something as beautiful as the city of Old Town;so different,clean and even the smell...it was...he didn't know what it was because there was..no smell... no foul smell to it unlike the stench of Kings landing.

The Hightower on the other hand was so majestic ,its beacon so other worldly,that it felt he had stepped into an older,more ancient realm than the one he was used,it was something else seeing it himself than the pictures he saw in his books or the one he the pictured in his mind.

In the quiet moment,long after the welcoming feast before sleep claimed him in his now bed chamber,high above the Highlighter;he couldn't help feeling that his life was going to change and that it would never be the same ever again.

* * *

**Authors Note:**

My interpretation of Gunthor is as an intelligent,laid back,easy to laugh kind of guy..

Orys on the other hand is an intelligent,somewhat arrogant child,who know its and doesn't suffer fools in his own humble opinion.

They will be growing,changing;so don't expect them to be the same.

Next chapter may be a time skip or another set up chapter

**PS:**

**Are there ,any betas willing to help me out?**


	6. The bastard

**7 Years. And ... moons Later**

* * *

**Chapter VI**

* * *

**Rolland Storm**

**297AL**

**The Hightower**

* * *

**Rolland Storm's Chamber**

* * *

Noise...too sudden...mayhaps something dropped and quiet cursing and mutterings of a servant outside his door; startled Rolland from blissful sleep and his...wonderful dream of Malora. Then the next moment a blistering headache...ran a mock in his head which had him cursing the gods, the dammed insipid servant and the amount of cider ale, he had drunk the night before celebrating Prince Orys forging his eighth lin-...wait ...Orys.

Orys...the name had him sitting up in his bed so suddenly that it made his already aching head, feel like rampaging Aurouchs, he looked out the window alcove to make certain of the time and what he saw was not good; the sun's rays were well into his room, the skies a clear blue...almost midday, dammed it, he had slept in. He usually woke the prince up for his arms lessons at day break...he, Garth and Lannister had been sparring with and teaching the prince the use of the shield, sword and spear for the past three years and odd few moons. The prince was left to his own devices when it came to the bow he was proficient in...this odd little arrangement had been Lord Leyton's idea...a compromise between him and a particularly petulant, sullen, rebellious and bratty ten year old Orys. The prince had the unfortunate habit of being stubborn, unmoving...when he wanted something his way; he thought as he made his way to the privy and made ready for the day.

* * *

Cleansed ,a draft taken for his rampaging head and newly dressed in clean fresh wools and linens; he made his way out of his chamber and walked the short distance down the hall to the Prince's chamber doors and knocked, just in case, he hadn't been the only one to sleep in. Orys's rooms were in between his and Lannister's rooms. He knocked again but no answer came...so he made his way through the doors, calling out Orys's name just in case he happened to be deeply asleep or just ignoring him by some mischance.

The four poster bed was empty...messy but unoccupied, the embers in the hearth opposite the bed were almost dead, the alcove curtains fluttered from the wind...up hazard book stacks, a map of kings Landing ,open tomes, books and papers on the table and floor in front of the alcove. He made his way to the table in a few quick strides to pick up some of the papers on the floor in danger of fluttering out the window alcove; queer drawings of crossbows, catapults, trebuchets, spitfires, scorpions...siege engines by the look of them. As he made his way back to the chambers doors after securing the papers under a particularly thick tome...Ay-...Aymidon's Engines of brievely wondered what Orys was up to once more as he made his way down the hall down to Lannister's Chamber Doors.

* * *

Even seven years and a few moons on, since he had sworn his vow to be the Prince's sworn shield...he scarcely understood him truly...many would mistakenly think Prince Orys as; only a boy with brilliant mind with amble due cause...but he was more than that. If he had to describe the Prince...he would say; Orys was an acolyte of many trades but a master of none. A right mess and complicated way to go about life if you asked him because he was a man who was happy enough with a woman on one arm and a sword in the other and nothing more...fighting, killing and praying to the Warrior face of the seven was all he did, needed and cared for; he didn't see why the prince made life complicated for himself...he thought as he knocked on the Kingslayer's door.

"Yes" came a curious reply from behind the door.

"Are you dissent Lannister...?"He asked out loud, hand on the door handle. He had once made the disastrous mistake of barging into the King slayer's rooms while the Lannister was in...

"Would it matter if I wasn't Storm..." an amused reply came from Lannister. The little shit loved his japes and taunts but he had gotten used to them over the years...even the ones in queer taste. He asked once more with an edge to his voice "are you...?"

"Yes" came the reply after a moment. Thank the warrior for small mercies; he thought as he made his way into the room which had a thankfully dressed Lannister sat on his bed, putting on his high knee black shoes.

"Did Orys tell you where he was going Lannister...because he isn't in his rooms", he inquired; ignoring the earlier jape.

The Kingslayer answered him after mulling over his question for a moment, "I vaguely remember him in the haze of sleep and half consciousness; coming into the chamber and mentioning...something about going ahead with our daily spars with Garth and... something about letting us sleep in..."

"Are you sure...absolutely sure about that?"He asked not confident in the Kingslayer the last year or so the Prince had gained the tendency to disappear to places unknown for hours then miraculously reappear just when you were beginning to worry.

"Not really...for all I know; I may have imagined the whole dammed thing "Lannister sarcastically replied while he continued to fiddle with his shoes.

Rolland gave him a sour look for casually disregarding their sworn vows and duty which the Kingslayer found far too easy to ignore in favor of his shoes.

Done with his shoes, Lannister stood up, brushed the left arm of his red-yellow inlaid jerkin for phantom flint then looked up; gave him a confused and amused look and then asked in a sneering voice "Why are you fretting...my sweet wise cracking nephew can take care of himself and if he happens not to be able to...then he may very well deserve his unfortunate fate"

"Don't even jape about that Lannister...you may be able to walk around with your neck intact after... that...mishap with the mad king but King Robert, fat as he may be now...Would wring my neck and put my head on a pike " a dark look crossed the Kingslayer's face before his cutting smile was back on his face.

"He just may still put your head on a pike...if he ever heard you called him fat so brazenly; in earshot of his good ...brother". He laughed...that's why he liked Lannister, he gave as much or even more than he got. King Robert may not actually do it but he would still let you stew in shear anxiousness and dread awaiting your judgement...before laughing it off.

"I would deny it...saying you were playing at your games; trying to turn a gallant and just king against his gracious servant. Then we would see who; he would believe you or me, Kingslayer?"

He smiled with mirth in his eyes at the sour look on Lannister's face.

"At the rate you two are bickering...you will still be at it by dinner. Then Lady Malora would have your Skulls used as Lanterns instead of putting them on pikes. I wonder... Sweet uncle if your skull is made of gold too?" A rueful voice interrupted them at the door.

Only one person could call Malora Lady and still say such morbid things in the same breath...

"You say the sweetest things, sweet nephew "Lannister replied in an amused sneering voice.

"I aim to please; sweet uncle "The prince replied in kind, green Lannister eyes full of mirth.

"How long were you standing there, Orys?"Rolland asked curious and for the umpteenth time wishing the boy wore a bell, he was too soft on his feet. Something he must have learnt...picked up during some of the many hours he disappeared into Oldtown alone with Gunthor.

"Just long enough to hear...my sweet uncle talk so caring of my well being; that the mother above...Would weep at his words of care and concern. I was going to leave; my heart much lighter and assured of my continued safety... the two of you to your bickering...that was until I remembered our Lady Malora was waiting for you "Orys replied in a far too sweet, sarcastic bored voice.

Suddenly there a silence...and tension in the chamber either at the jape, the...dread of the waiting mad maid or a mixture of the two .He did not know or even venture to guess because his laughter which was meant to be at the jape on Lannister...was stolen from his throat at ...the possible pain and embarrassment that awaited them if they kept Malora waiting any longer.

"So you were...ease dropping on us before making yourself known then sweet nephew. Such unbecoming behavior for a prince...what would your mother say?"Lannister asked in a sarcastic voice with an edge and feigned concern to it; in a bid mayhaps to rid themselves of the tension in the room and gain back some of their personal footing at...their faltering, no his faltering word joust with his nephew.

Orys gave him a measuring look then curiously asked "it that...a threat sweet uncle"

"No...not as long as you promise not to make a habit of it "replied the Kingslayer; trying to reach some absurd win of words with his nephew.

"Agreed..."hurriedly replied the Prince, wishing to keep his mother out of his affairs as much as possible. Getting queen Cersei involved meant getting Lord Leyton, Ser Baelor involved...which meant Greysteel being more relentless at being...Garth Hightower. There was no need to make life complicated for the lot of them, he agreed with his prince.

"But I can't Promise...If you keep your doors open, ears tend not to help the sound that enters them, sweet uncle "The prince impudently continued on.

At that ,he wanted to hit his prince in annoyance...Lannister just looked on in resigned and admiring amusement.

* * *

Clothed in very dark green padded leather; hair and face matted in sweat, Iron wood shield courtesy of his grand sire Lord Tywin held in his left hand, a blunted tourney sword at the hip and finally a blunted spear held in his right hand.

The prince looked for the entire world to see...a budding, hard working and gallant squire on the cusp of knighthood; fit for an insipid maiden's fantasy and dreams of knights in shining armor and songs of old; comely with hair as dark as coal, tall, lean muscled, slender and graceful. All a maiden or even the odd lad could dream of...if they could over look his sometimes measuring eyes, sarcastic biting tongue or his decidedly lack of humor...not the morbid brand he spouted; his queer lack of interest in taking part in Tourneys...he called them a mummer's farce though well intentioned.

"How did the sparring fair, Orys?"Rolland asked a moment later; wanting to know if their daily ritual went well despite their absence and surprised that the prince had actually gone through with it. When it would have been understandable if he had slept in like he and the Lannister had done after their well into the night-early morning celebrations.

"It went quiet well enough...Humphrey was more than happy to fill in as sparring partner in your absence. Though Garth found it...disappointing, even laughable you two over did it...the moment you were given leeway and reason to do so "The prince replied in an amused tone.

"Laughable, leeway...as if we were some starving hounds and not grown men ourselves, set loose upon the world. Can you believe the audacity of that overgrown stringent... oaf; let's teach him a lesson once and for all Kingslayer". He hadn't like the way Garth Hightower had taken it upon himself to judge and point out his and Lannister's lack of general discipline the moment they had stepped onto Battle Island.

"..."

"Kingslayer...what say you, should we teach that overgrown oaf a lesson or two in respect?"He asked once more, there was a pregnant pause once more before he was answered.

"Are you going to be demanding your due courtesy and respect...from Garth by fighting him yet again Storm? Count me out of it; I have learnt that nothing but naught comes from challenging Garth and demanding things...let Greysteel say his piece and let that be the end of it "Replied the Kingslayer.

"You craven...your ancestors, father...would be shamed at your words Lannister. Hear me roar... more like hear me whimper "he replied disgruntled.

"That's not quite right...I believe my Lord father would be proud of my show of common wit and sense of dignity in this matter...something you seem to lack in regards to Garth "Lannister replied in a bored tone.

"Call it; common wit, dignity...all you want Lann-"A tired sigh from the prince interrupted him.

"It's almost midday; you best be on your way, Lady Malora doesn't like to be kept waiting too long...the consequences could be quite...dire for you. "The prince issued his warning as he turned around to make his way to his rooms but seemed to remember something" I will be at the top tier near the crone's face, in case you have need of me or are looking for me after you are done. I will be awaiting swift wing..."He turned leaving him and Lannister fidgeting anxiously at the reminder of Malora and momentarily alone once more. There was something quiet queer about Orys and his hawk...Something...he just couldn't put his finger. He thought a moment later.

Lannister made rapid strides to the door then turned around to address him "Come Bastard, let's be on our way... it's considered extremely rude to keep a Lady waiting"

"We are not done discussing Greysteel, Lannister..."He remembered and desperately replied.

"Yes we are. The mad maiden beckons and her am embarrassed to say dread more than Greysteel "replied Lannister in a tired tone. He shuddered at the thought of a displeased Malora...she was too...quee-... eccentric to trifle with despite her beauty; so unlike her younger more genteel version in coloring...her sister Alerie Tyrell.

Sighing in defeat, Rolland pondered then asked. "I wonder where she even got the queer idea; blade fighting would be an interesting thing to learn?"He asked still confounded, almost nine days into their lessons.

Alongside him; Lannister gave him an arcane look, asking him why... he wasting time on the obvious. Slowly thinking on it...it came far more quickly to him than he had imagined.

"Orys... "He slowly replied in a resigned voice. It usually almost always came back to Orys when Malora was concerned. The boy sure did chose oddly...lovely as she may be to behold; Malora was no mothering type... but the pair were as thick as thieves none the less.

Making their way into one of the dreaded contraption that allowed them to go up and down the tiers of the Hightower, Lannister favored him with a rueful glance and spoke the moment just as the gate closed and the dreaded thing began it descent "I thought it obvious Storm...I see it clearly now after all these years...our roles in this endeavor of ours. I am obviously the wit and mind of the duo while you are the simple sword...in need of direction"

He favored the Kingslayer leaning against the contraption's wall, arms crossed and...mirth in his bright green eyes; a sour look as he hanged on, on one of the rails in the contraption for dear purchase as they made their way and descent into the training caverns deep in the Hightower. He swore...he would have his vengeance during one of their many daily spars.

He also couldn't wait for the day; he would say his goodbyes to Greysteel and be rid of his stringent ways. For now, he would humor sweet and queer Malora her odd ways and enjoy the way her teats bounced so delectabl -

"Storm, What are you waiting for...get out" Lannister voice called out, breaking him out from his sweet thoughts of Malora. The second time that had happened...this morning; he cursed as he got out of the damned contraption and followed the Kingslayer into the halls that led to the training caverns.

The dread and anger,he had felt moments ago...fading into some queer excitement at the thought of seeing and teaching Malora to handle her blades and daggers.

* * *

**Authors Note:**

This chapter is basically a time skip and bridge between the two time periods,from here on the plot will begin to thicken...

I hope you picked up some of the things Orys has been up to the seven years...am trying to avoid some stereotypical stuff here with Orys.

Let me know what you think...and what am missing and am very open to any criticisms


End file.
